Airborn
by mrsbblack
Summary: There are some sensations Bernie is quite fond of. There are some she hates with a passion. And, as a big macho army medic, she naturally has to deal with them on her own. *Not betaed. Not my native language. T for later chapters. Trigger warning (the title might give it away). (I have published very little, be gentle with me. Or not ;) Not sure, where this will take me.)
1. Chapter 1

There are a number of sensations, Bernie secretly enjoys.

There is the mundane task of slowly peeling off her scrubs after a long and strenuous operation. To her, it always feels like a clean slate, a pardon in a sense, which allows her to leave whatever just happened in theatre and move on to the next patient that needs her help.

Some days, it's the burn she feels inhaling the smoke of a freshly lit cigarette because it makes her feel something, anything, even though she has received disapproving glares for this habit of hers from various people throughout her life.

Starting with Sister Mary – Mary Agatha to be exact – that caught her and her friend Helen smoking a cigarette behind the school garden shed. Oddly enough, that one didn't go down well with her parents. A few weeks later, Sister Mary had luckily been too occupied to spy on them once again. Had she not been busy planning the teachers' conference, she might have caught them doing something else entirely, something considered worse than smoking. It had been innocent, sloppy, but coronary-worthy all the same. Sadly, Helen hadn't needed for Sister Mary to find them. She had developed a bad conscience all by herself and went and told her parents. After a stern talking to from both Bernie's parents and Sister Mary, Bernie switched schools. No need to mention that old-school Catholicism, habit, cassock and all, had given her the creeps ever since.

Lately, however, most sensations Bernie cherished were in some way or another related to Serena and – ironically enough – to that wonderful feeling she discovered and buried behind that garden shed all those years ago.

Serena, who had graciously accepted her back into her life, had accepted her scared excuses, her rubbish behaviour, and her radio silence. Took all of it and kissed away two miserable, lonely months in an unfamiliar and coldly neon-light-lid hospital in Kiev.

Serena, who didn't mention the rhyme that was made up to make fun of her until one cozy evening, when Serena thought her relaxed enough to listen to it. "Serena Campbell, pudding and pie, kissed a girl and made her cry," she had whispered with tears in her eyes, but a slight smirk on her face.

Despite irregular outbursts of "Why is everyone joking about toasters?" and "Do you think I'm gay or am I gay for you?" and the occasional "Do you think we missed out?" Serena had been surprisingly calm about dating a woman. The fact that she's the woman being dated gives her all kinds of fuzzy feelings she would never mention to Serena. At least not yet anyway.

Sometimes she thinks that dating is not quite what they are doing. They skipped so many steps and were stuck on others, everything had gone to shit and was mended in such a gentle fashion that it feels like more. It feels like something she might have had with Marcus if he hadn't been, well, a man. In the beginning, she had bathed in the approving looks of her parents and she still loved her children dearly. She even liked Marcus, liked the conversations they had early on before she fled to war zones and he started to become bitter and cold.

She realized then and there that she never loved him, not in the way she loves Serena, she couldn't have. That thought makes her shudder, her stomach clenches uncomfortably, but she is also filled with a warmth that makes this whole unfamiliar emotional turmoil worthwhile.

At the moment, however, all these happy thoughts about Serena are out of the window.

Because Bernie can feel a particular sensation that she passionately hates. It's to do with physics and wind and power and she knows that, but mankind is not supposed to spread its wings like a bird. Bernie is sure of that. And with one look at Bernie's closed eyes, sweaty hands grabbing at the armrest and clearly agitated breathing patterns, Serena realizes two things. Bernie is afraid of flying. And her big macho army medic is trying to conceal it.


	2. Chapter 2

Since some of you lovely people decided to not hate this immediately, here is the next chapter. Let me know what you think.

 _And with one look at Bernie's closed eyes, sweaty hands grabbing at the armrest and clearly agitated breathing patterns, Serena realizes two things. Bernie is afraid of flying. And her big macho army medic is trying to conceal it._

"Bernie?" Serena whispered. No reaction. So she gently pried Bernie's hand from the arm rest that she was clinging to right next to her and settled both of their intertwined hands onto her lap. "Bernie, have you forgotten to tell me something?"

Bernie turned her head slightly and opened her eyes to look at her. "I am an extraterrestrial being and around 148 years old?"

Serena huffed. "Bernie!"

"I went to a Spice Girls concert with Charlotte once and I might have liked a few of their songs?"

"Good to know, try again," Serena laughed.

Bernie took a deep, dramatic breath. "I forgot to water the cactus before we left the office."

"Not what I meant," Serena said. "And I know you would forget that's why I watered him. Poor Theodore, I don't want him looking like a shrivelled up cucumber in a week's time."

"I thought you had named him after me," Bernie wondered. "It had a tiny birth certificate with my name on it," Bernie said. "I remember it quite clearly. You gave it to me after I returned from you-know-where."

"Darling, you're not quite as cactus-y now that I am not angry anymore and know you, you know, intimately," Serena said and she blushed at the thought of last nights' shenanigans and the night before that and a few frantic kisses during the early shift before that.

Bernie snorted. "So you thought you could name him after my cousin?" Bernie laughed.

"Well, he was a little greenish when we last saw him, don't you think? The fact that you had your hand up my skirt in the middle of a restaurant probably didn't help."

"I touched your knee, Serena. Under the table," Bernie sighed. Remembering the anxious shock she had felt when she realized the waiter glaring at them from across the room had indeed been her cousin Theodore, she felt even sicker.

She hated it when others made her feel like she couldn't do things or wasn't allowed to. That was one of the reasons why she had chosen a career in the military. It wasn't considered decent for a young woman back then, at least not her. She had strongly felt that she needed to prove to her father that he didn't need a son for someone to follow in his footsteps.

Now, it angered her, when she did not feel comfortable to express her feelings. Sometimes, it was of her own doing because she couldn't shed those chains she was blessed with as a prim and proper British child. Sometimes, more often than not, it were disapproving glares and hushed whispers of random people, or, as it were, distant cousins, that made her too uncomfortable to reach out and hold Serena's hand, brush a strand behind her ear, kiss her out of the blue. Sometimes she got scared as well, but that was another thing she was keeping to herself for now.

Serena often wondered what Bernie was thinking about when she drifted into space like that. She knew there were things they had not talked about, things they did not know about each other. Both of them were left with bruised and broken hearts after their marriages failed and all other attempts at finding love had been aborted. But she also knew that Bernie couldn't be left to wallow in self-pity, much worse self-loathing. And she couldn't be left feeling like she was all alone in the world, because, if it was up to Serena, Bernie would be anything but alone for all days to come.

The creaking and humming of the landing gears being retracted disrupted Serena's thoughts. Bernie was trembling by now. Since her girlfriend – and she blushed a little using that term, even it was only in her head – had obviously decided to pretend to be fine for the next one and a half hours, all Serena could think of, was to distract her.

"Did I tell you about that one time Elinor broke her arm in kindergarten?" she asked. Bernie shook her head. "Well," Serena said, "it was awful." And so she talked and talked until she felt that Bernie had calmed herself.

"You know, you can stop talking about strange injuries for now," Bernie laughed and squeezed Serena's hand and added: "Thank you." Serena simply smiled at her and chose to shuffle even closer instead. After a comfortable silence had settled between them, Bernie lifted both of their hands onto her lap and started to paint imaginary patterns onto Serena's skin.

"The first time Marcus and I went on proper holidays together, we decided to fly to Greece. I must have caught a stomach bug or something in advance, so I was feeling rather poorly." She smiled and looked at Serena, who nodded as if to say: 'Go on.'

"Right as the plane took off, I had to you know, puke, and I couldn't get up fast enough and everything happened at once and some of it got onto him. He was so disgusted that he switched seats and wouldn't even look at me for the rest of the flight," she said and looked so sad and lost that Serena cursed the man for the millionth time.

She turned and lifted her hand to Bernie's cheek. "Bernie, please look at me," she said. "You can puke all you want, it won't drive me away."

At that, Bernie burst out laughing, tears in her eyes. "Well," Serena stuttered, "that came out wrong. What I meant to say was that I, I..."

Bernie smiled, one of those open and honest smiles that made her heart sink and her head spin. "Yes?"

"I am quite fond of you," Serena breathed.

"Fond, is it?" Bernie smirked.

Serena smiled. "I might love you a little bit as well."

"I might love you a little bit, too," Bernie admitted and kissed Serena.

40.000 feet in the air, without being afraid.

With little old grandmas turning their heads to see what was going on in row 23 and one flight attendant, who looked a lot like Dr. Copeland, giving them the thumbs up.

And the best thing of it all: Right after, a slight crackle could be heard through the tiny speakers above them and the pilot announced: "Dear passengers, we will soon be landing in Berlin."


	3. Chapter 3

Even though the couple's trip to Berlin had started with what both considered quite a romantic moment, it wasn't a romantic gateway at all. They were heading to an international congress specialized on trauma surgery. Unexpectedly, Hanssen had invited them both into his office one morning, presented them with shiny booklets and an exciting offer: He would rotate staff schedules, spent some of the budget that was allocated to further training and they, in turn, would meet up with a guy called Friedrich Remagen and sweet-talk him into sponsoring new equipment for their trauma unit.

Both of them had cringed at the thought at first, had talked about the sexism of this whole flirting-for-funds-business in private before, but as both turned to look at each other, they silently agreed to go anyway. They both were realistic enough to know that if the funding was not generated in one way or the other, the red trauma phone might land up in a box on top of a dusty cupboard sooner than they had hoped for.

"Your key card, Ms. Wolfe," the young receptionist said, startling Bernie and bringing her back from Holby to gray and snowy Berlin.

"Yes, thank you," she answered and looked at Serena, who was standing beside her, smiling, a key card dangling between her fingers as well.

"Come on," Serena said, clear excitement in her voice. "Let's look at our room." And the way she said that, 'our room', was so lovely, so intimate that Bernie thanked the stars that she hadn't suggested that they both got their own room.

She had thought about it, just for a bit, about the gossip it might start and what it would look like, if people would think of them of two best friends sharing a room for convenience or would they think of them as something more. Would they see what they thought of as rather private looks between them, the ones that – if you asked Dom – were and never had been quite as subtle as they had thought? In the end, Bernie didn't say anything, because she realized, and with some surprise at that, that she really didn't care. More so, even though Serena hadn't said anything, she was sure that her girlfriend was in bitter need of reassurance. She needed to know that she wouldn't deny their feelings, wouldn't just leave her standing there. Looking back at it now, Bernie was quite ashamed of the way she had behaved on that last day when she was presented with the secondment. It had been quite dramatic, quite a high-school-y moment. The 'Stop, please' accompanied by wild hand gestures was still ringing in her head. Bernie sighed. That was thankfully in the past now, Serena had given her a chance to make things right. What's more, she had given herself a chance to make things right and she was so, so happy she did. At that, Bernie turned and quietly followed Serena to the elevator.

After five unsuccessful key card stripes against the electronic look, they opened the door. 'Whoever invented these should be hanged,' Serena thought. 'What's wrong with a normal set of keys?' It was a bright room, modern design, but the first thing Serena noticed was the twin bed – with two single mattresses.

Bernie laughed at her bewildered look. "Charlotte told me about these," she said. "It's a German thing. At least a German hotel thing."

Serena shook her head disapprovingly – she had gotten used to falling asleep in Bernie's arms, had planned to do so here, where they didn't have to stick to her nephew's schedule, where they didn't have to look decent in the morning as he liked to remind them that: "We really need to leave now, Auntie Serena, or we will be late for work". She walked over to the window. All she could see were gray rooftops and railways covered in snow. "Lovely," she huffed. "Not even a proper view." Serena knew she was being childish that this was a business trip, but she had hoped for a little more, atmosphere so to speak.

"Well, I can't complain, I like what I'm looking at," Bernie said and slowly dragged her gaze over Serena, from top to bottom and then stopped, staring at her lips.

Serena blushed. It was a new experience for her, to be desired so openly, and not just for her looks, that she didn't know how to respond at times.

"I imagine we do have some time before the conference starts, don't we," Bernie said as she opened her coat and threw it over one of the chairs, chucking her slightly muddy boots in the direction of the bathroom. Then, she slowly walked to the door, demonstratively picked up the 'Do not disturb' sign and hung it on the handle outside of their room. Serena stood there, open-mouthed, and couldn't believe how quickly Bernie had grown into her own during the short time that they had been dating.

Bernie smiled at her, opening the buttons of her blouse, slowly and asked: "Cat got your tongue?"

Serena smirked. "Pussy's more like it," she said, a twinkle in her eyes.

Bernie shook her head, laughing out loud, tears leaking from her eyes. That was unexpected. To the world, Serena was a well-behaved, educated woman, even posh at times. But with her, she was so much more. A sailor at times as it seemed. 'What a match,' Bernie thought. "Care to demonstrate?"

"Oh I would love to," Serena said. "But I want you naked."

Serena wondered about her frankness herself, but in all honesty, it all boiled down to the fact that she wanted Bernie. As close as possible. As soon as possible. They wasted enough time as it were.

"Fräulein," Bernie said and nodded. And then, in the harsh light of the winter sky, she peeled off her clothes, slowly, but steadily. Walked over to the bed, pulled back the covers, laid down and waited.

Serena snapped out of her reverie, mesmerized by the simplicity of it all. Shrugged of her jacket as well, her blouse, shoes and pants soon followed. By the time she made it to the bed, slowly crawling towards Bernie and settling above her, on her hands and knees, she was naked as well. She kissed her, guided Bernie's hand to feel for herself how excited she already was. Stroked through Bernie's folds as well and when her breath hitched and all Bernie managed to say, to chant, was her name, she whispered. "I know, darling, I know."


	4. Chapter 4

This one is quite depressing, wrote it after the rooftop fiasco. Might add a cheery one next, now that Serena is back.

* * *

Their last trip together, the grey sky above Berlin, the cozy warmth after blissful laughs and gentle touches – all these memories feel like a lifetime ago.

Everything lays in shambles now and Bernie has learned that there are sensations, which are more dreadful than flying or being blown up or facing her husband in the face of her own truth. These sensations slowly clawed their way through everything Bernie and Serena built together until there was nothing left. Serena had spoken of hope, but Bernie cannot bring herself to feel hopeful, not one bit. Most days, she doesn't feel anything at all. Her army days taught her to take all of those distracting emotions and bury them deep beneath the hot sands of Afghanistan. Now, she buries them beneath blood and gore, double shifts and drinks with colleagues after work.

There is just one problem: At some point, Bernie has to go home. Has to be forced to by her team on more than one occasion. And that is when she learns that the worst sensation is deafening silence. It is worse than Serena clasping her hand after the doctor treating Elinor signaled with a shake of his head that she was gone. It is worse than Serena weeping into the pillows after the funeral, crying for her daughter and crying for herself too. It is worse than empty wine bottles and harsh words thrown at her in the middle of the ward.

It is worse, because Bernie was able to react, to take action then. She held Serena's hand, she stroked her hair, she hugged her tight. But there is nothing Bernie can do against the silence, because it is a constant presence she is not able to shake off, no matter how hard she tries. No matter the hours spent at work, no matter the hours watching quiz shows with Jason, no matter the miles run until her lungs burn and her legs shake. No matter the fags she smokes in the cold morning mist in the backyard of Serena's house. It felt like their home for a while. Now, Bernie feels like a guest, even though there are pictures of all three of them pinned to the fridge, even though there is a mug saying 'Doctor Bernie' in one of the cupboards, even though her toothbrush is still settled next to Serena's in the bathroom.

There is just one reason, she spends most nights here and not at her flat and that reason is confused and sad and misses his auntie. Jason's routine has completely been thrown off-kilter and Bernie tries to provide at least some form of stability. That way, she can pretend, everything will go back to normal. Most days she knows that it won't.


End file.
